Broken Rules: Mafia Romance by I. A. Dice

Author:I. A. Dice [Dice, I. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-28T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Layla

Two weeks flew by and judgment day crept up on me unnoticed. The house is filled with people from the early hours of the morning. An army of staff employed to cater for the party took over downstairs, preparing food or redecorating the living room. Two Chesterfield sofas, a coffee table, and Jess’s beloved Persian carpet were placed in storage. In their place, a pop-up bar appeared by the window.

A young man dressed in a white tuxedo polishes champagne flutes while the event coordinator, a strict-looking brunette in horn-rimmed glasses, yells at the staff to get moving. Food is piling up in the kitchen while an older gentleman wheels in a barrel of fine, British ale—Nikolaj’s favorite. Flowers were delivered an hour ago. Large bouquets of pink-and-white lilies. Their aroma makes me feel light-headed. Soirees at Frank’s are usually held in the back garden under a beautiful canopy of tiny, white lights, but at the end of November, the weather doesn’t favor outdoor parties. Jess locked herself in her bedroom with a make-up artist and a hairdresser five minutes after I woke up.

Frank supervises the staff to avoid slip-ups growling at people for no reason. Why he hired the coordinator is beyond me. He argues against most of what she says.

Nikolaj’s due at six p.m. with his wife, son, and pawns. It’s not even ten a.m., but I’m already tired of this day. I’m working on my dissertation, which is almost impossible with the shouting and general madness happening around here. I can’t hear my own thoughts.

Frank sits opposite me, two wrinkles across his forehead as he pretends to read the newspaper but keeps a watchful eye on everyone around.

“Where’s this going?” The man with the barrel asks one of the waitresses.

Frank exhales an exasperated puff of air, tossing the newspaper aside for the eighth time in twenty minutes. “Living room.” He points the clueless man in the right direction.

Ten seconds later, the coordinator walks in, her face red. “Beer was supposed to stay in the kitchen!”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Frank clips, visibly pleased to annoy the poor woman.

Sadistic bastard.

I take my phone, scrolling through the contacts to find Dante’s number. I need an out, or I’ll end up in the looney bin before the party starts.

“Good morning,” he grumbles.

I imagine him with his eyes closed, head on the pillow, and the phone resting on the side of his face. A small smile curves my lips. “Get me out of here.”

“Don’t tempt me. This bed is so fucking uncomfortable without you in it. Why do you want to get out of there? You’re supposed to be babysitting Julij, remember?”

“He won’t arrive until six. I want to work on my dissertation, but it’s like an Indian market here. I’ll stay out of your way. I promise.” I await his decision while he breathes down the line. “Pretty please?”

The bed creaks under his weight. “Fine. I’ll pick you up in half an hour under one condition.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Don’t say that, baby. Don’t put images in my head.

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